


excommunicate me!

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Confrontations, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Religious Conflict, Slow Burn, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:26:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: He stumbled as soon as his feet hit the ground; Tyler reached out to help him, fingers curling around Josh’s bicep and tugging him steady. "Amish dudes don’t flirt," Josh’s brain cried, louder this time. "Jesus Christ, don’t do this to yourself."





	1. josh steps inside the painting

**Author's Note:**

> translation into Russian: https://ficbook.net/readfic/7232930

Josh loved his grandmother. Truly, he did. Most people do - love their grandmother, that is. But he couldn’t bring himself to apply that same love to her ancient tin-can of a house.

For starters, it was built in the seventies; Josh was ninety-nine percent sure that there was zero real wood in the whole thing, meaning it hadn’t held up that well. Like, at all. The interior wasn’t much better, considering the carpet was the same color as the water: brownish orange. Whenever Josh took a shower he would smell like old pennies for the next three days.

He could stomach all of that for three or four days - maybe a week if he was in a good place mentally. But three months? The place was fucking tiny, and in the middle of nowhere. What was he supposed to do for an entire summer?

Part of him wanted to beg his parents to let him stay behind. To watch the house, prove he could be a responsible adult. But then he would remember _why_ they were spending three months with his grandma and start feeling all guilty.

Josh decided he wasn’t going to complain - not verbally, anyway. This was basically his fault. If he had just moved out at eighteen and gone to college or some shit, his parents wouldn’t even have the option to drag him out to the Ohio countryside for an extended period of time.

But they did have that option, which meant Josh was twenty-three and curled up on the world’s saddest, creakiest bed.

He spent most of his time holed up in the guest room for the first few days. His parents tried to get after him for it, but his grandma insisted that she didn’t mind. “He’s grieving,” she said. “Just like the rest of us.”

And that was true - to an extent. Josh was grieving, sure, but he wasn’t riddled with heartache or anything. There was just nothing to do other than play Scrabble.

Josh hated Scrabble. He was so bad with words.

Four days in and his mom pushed open the door. No knock, no “Josh, honey, can I come in?” He didn’t mind. This wasn’t his room, wasn’t even his _house_ , and he wasn’t sixteen anymore. Believe it or not, he had been reminded of that pretty much every day since he turned eighteen. A legal adult! 

He didn’t feel like an adult (legal or otherwise) when his mom sat down at the end of the bed, making the mattress sigh like an old dog. Josh propped himself up on his elbows and blinked at her through runaway strands of red hair. She blinked back.

“Yeah?” Josh said when he didn’t receive any sort of greeting. Not in a biting way. Just kind of tired.

“Your grandmother and I are going to a bake sale down the road. I’m sure she would appreciate it if you came with us.”

Josh’s first thought was “absolutely not”. He didn’t care about baking, and he certainly didn’t want to go mingle with people. Not right then, anyway. But the thought of disappointing his grandmother was what spurred him to open his mouth and say, “Sure.”

His mom smiled and patted his leg - a sign of approval. Josh knew all too well what he would have gotten if he’d said no: a sigh that somehow lasted three years and the words “okay, then” mumbled in the most dejected voice possible. He wished he could say that he was used to it by now, but he never could shake the shitty feeling that wormed around in his gut whenever she did it.

Josh was sensitive. Josh was going to a bake sale.

She told him to dress “modestly” before leaving the room. He wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed, so he pulled on a button-down shirt and some jeans and called it a day. It’s not like he was in the mood to show up to a bake sale with his dick out, anyway.

The way his grandmother’s eyebrows shot up a good three inches when he entered the kitchen spoke volumes. Luckily for Josh, she knew how easy it was to embarrass him and chose not to make a big deal out of it. “I’m glad you’re coming along. You look very nice.”

“Thanks.” It was such a lame response that all Josh wanted to do was launch himself into the nearest ocean. But hey, he had grown pretty accustomed to being a lame son of a bitch 24/7. You have to be pretty pathetic if your own grandma is genuinely surprised that you got out of bed.

Five minutes later and he was being a pitiful loser in the back of a beat-up Chevy truck. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t just take his dad’s car, but then he remembered his unspoken rule about complaining and decided he didn’t care. Maybe it had something to do with sentiment. Josh wasn’t a very sentimental guy. Old people, on the other hand, eat that shit up.

Which is probably why he was sitting in a truck bed with his knees hugged to his chest, the wind whipping poorly-dyed hair around his face. At least he would have an excuse for how messy it was (other than “I didn’t feel like brushing it”). And he could blame his overall griminess on the dust being stirred up from the dirt road.

For three or four minutes Josh just sat and watched the cow-speckled hills roll by. He was trying his best not to concentrate too hard on whatever conversation was taking place inside the truck. Maybe they were talking about him. Maybe they weren’t. Maybe he was being self-centered.

The truck turned and Josh slid forward an inch or two. Twisting around, he found himself looking at a house on a hill: big and plain, with a barn to its left and a pasture to its right. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel lonely or not. Either way, they were heading straight for it; any suspicion of who lived there was confirmed when Josh saw the buggy parked at the end of the impossibly long dirt driveway.

So it was an Amish bake sale. That explained the “dress modestly” request.

He was doing just fine until they got to the porch and he was watching Grandma Dun knock on the front door. That’s when his stomach got all weird and taut, like his intestines had wound themselves up into the world’s tightest ball of yarn. Josh’s mom was squeezing his shoulder and smiling up at him, telling him how happy she was that he had tagged along. Josh smiled back - no teeth or anything, just one corner of his mouth twitching a little higher than the other.

“It’s whatever.”

The door swung open - not all the way, but just enough for a little boy in overalls to peer out at them. Josh’s grandmother leaned down and said, “It’s nice to see you, Leroy. We’re here for the bake sale. Where are your folks?”

The kid mumbled something that Josh interpreted as “kitchen” and pulled the door open wider: a clear invitation to come inside. And they did, with Josh following close behind his mother as she said “thank you, sweetheart” before making her way into the house.

The kitchen didn’t have a dishwasher or a microwave, which Josh kind of expected. What he didn’t expect was how goddamn crowded it would be. There were at least twenty people gathered around, either looming over the counters to inspect the food or having pleasant, neighborly conversations. He recognized some of them from the funeral; whether that made him more or less nervous, he wasn’t sure.

It didn’t take long for Josh’s mom to start introducing him to people. The words “this is my son, Joshua” became verbal oatmeal to his ears. If he had known this would turn into a fucking reunion he would’ve at least taken a shower. He felt out of place; underdressed. A button-down shirt and a pair of jeans didn’t exactly seem appropriate anymore - not when he saw some other guy his age in suspenders and a dress shirt. Who wears that shit to a bake sale, anyway?

The outfit made a lot more sense when his mom leaned close to his ear and said, “That’s one of Mrs. Joseph’s boys. The oldest, I think. Why don’t you go say hi?”

An Amish kid, then. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“Joshua.” It was his grandmother, heading towards them with a smiley woman in tow - somebody else to be introduced to. The bonnet and apron told him it was the mother. “Josh, this is Mrs. Joseph. She used to bring you pie whenever you came to visit me.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember,” Josh said, which was a lie. He was a liar. But he smiled at her anyway to make the conversation run a little smoother.

“Tyler’s the one you should remember.” Mrs Joseph nodded at the same guy from before. He was perched on a wooden stool, one foot dangling against the floor and the other propped up on a bottom rung. Off to the side, he raised his head to smile at them. The crooked bottom teeth and squinty eyes were sort of familiar, just not familiar enough to make it all come flooding back. Josh felt a little guilty, but how was he supposed to remember some Amish kid from fifteen years ago? “You two used to have so much fun together.”

Josh raised his hand in a wave; Tyler waved back. Mrs. Joseph beckoned to him and he heeded his mother’s call, dropping down off the stool so he could make his way over to them. Josh’s intestines, still wound up nice and tight, showed no signs of unraveling.

“Hi.” Tyler held out a hand and Josh took it, silently praying that his palm wasn’t drenched with sweat or something. If it was, Tyler didn’t let him know. If anything he squeezed a little tighter than anticipated; held on a little longer. Josh was the first to pull away, stuffing his hand back in his pocket and clearing his throat.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Tyler shrugged. Josh wished he had the guts to look him in the eye. Part of him wondered if Tyler could really remember “how much fun” they used to have. Wondered if he could tell that Josh couldn’t remember a goddamn thing. Wondered if that upset him at all. “Pretty good I think.”

“Josh,” his mom said, squeezing his shoulder for the millionth time, “I can tell you’re getting bored. Why don’t you let Tyler show you around? It’ll give you two a chance to catch up.”

He stole a glance over at Tyler, who tipped his head thoughtfully to one side, looking back at him. Josh turned back to at his mom’s expectant face so he could nod and say, “Sounds all right to me.”

Fuck.

Before he knew it he was out of the kitchen and trailing behind some guy he barely knew, neither of them saying much of anything. One of the barn cats had taken to following them around, occasionally head-butting the back of Josh’s leg as if to say _“pet me, please”_. Not obliging would make him a borderline monster, so he stopped in his tracks and reached down to scratch under her chin. The cat purred, clearly pleased that her repeated requests for attention had paid off; Josh watched as she rolled over onto her back, making all sorts of happy cat noises as she laid in the dirt.

Realizing that Josh had fallen behind, Tyler looked back and saw him crouching beside one of the barn’s oldest residents. He backtracked a couple yards so he could join them, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to Josh, who had taken to tickling the cat’s cheeks with a big, dumb grin on his face.

He looked so fucking happy that Tyler could only sit there and blink like a dumbass when Josh murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I know you didn’t wanna get stuck babysitting me.”

“I don’t mind,” Tyler said before smiling all lopsided. “We’re ‘catching up’, remember?”

Josh snorted and continued scratching behind the cat’s ears, not once making eye-contact. He just kept staring down at the lovable mess of fur and fleas, not even looking up when Tyler said, “I’m sorry, too. About your grandfather. He… he was a good man. Real nice to everyone.”

“Yeah,” Josh mumbled. Had Tyler been one of the people in the pews? He must’ve been. “I’m just worried about my grandma. She’ll be all alone here now. I guess she could get a dog or something, but it’s not really the same. I, uh… I dunno. It sucks.”

“I’ll look out for her. We all will.” Tyler bumped his knee into Josh’s - a show of solidarity. “I promise.”

Josh finally looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and said “thanks”. But deep down he knew Tyler deserved more than that, so he cleared his throat and tried again: “Thank you. That, uh, that means a lot.” 

Tyler shrugged, assured him it was nothing, but that wasn’t true. It _was_ something, dammit. And something was always better than nothing.

Fucking Amish boys. They were all too modest for their own good.

“I like the hair,” Tyler said, eyeing it thoughtfully. He was a pretty thoughtful guy. “Did y’do it yourself?”

Josh stopped stroking the cat so he could run his fingers through it self-consciously. “Can you tell?”

“Not really. But I’ve never seen anyone with hair like that, so I guess I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“Not many guys running around here with red hair and nose rings, huh?”

Tyler shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well, shucks.” Josh smiled, but this time there were teeth. “Now I’m feeling kinda special."

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

Josh realized that the ball of yarn lodged in his gut had been unwound. Not all the way - it never loosened up that much - but breathing was easier. Everything was easier. All he’d ever wanted was for things to be a little less difficult, and this? This was the least difficult thing he’d ever done. He was having a good time.

Jesus Christ, he was having a good time.

“Josh! Josh, honey, it’s time to go!”

Fuck.

“That’s, uh, that’s my mom,” he said stupidly, as if Tyler didn’t know that, and stood up. Once he finished brushing the dirt off his jeans, they just kind of looked at each other until Josh mumbled, “Seeya.”

“Bye.” It was quiet and a little sad. Made Josh feel guilty. He was always feeling so fucking guilty.

The guilt pursued him all the way to the truck bed, making him hug his knees tighter to his chest. The wheels started rolling and Josh’s stomach rolled with them. He wasn’t nauseous, just troubled; it probably had something to do with the teenage angst he refused to outgrow.

Tyler was on the front porch, standing tall at his mother’s side. They were both waving goodbye, but when Josh lifted a hand to wave back, he was only addressing one person.

Fucking Amish boys, man.

****

;

****

Josh went running.

You wouldn’t know just by looking at him, but he liked to run - as long as nobody else was around. Because god fucking forbid he got made fun of. That’s why his mom never quite convinced him to join the track team in high school. She brought it up so many times, promised to attend all of the meets, but there was always some excuse.

“I wanna focus on my grades.” “It’s already too late to sign up.” “I heard the coach is an asshole.”

So she gave up, and her son continued to jog through the neighborhood at 11PM, his earbuds always blasting some song by The Rolling Stones.

The Ohio countryside catered perfectly to Josh and his weird, private needs. He could run for fifteen minutes straight and only have two cars pass him by. Knowing he had been given a rare opportunity, Josh ran until he tasted iron, only stopping when he saw a familiar face.

It was like a damn Van Gogh painting: Tyler sprawled across the grass, eyes closed and hands resting on his stomach. Josh wasn’t close enough to tell whether or not he was smiling, but he hoped that was the case. Because Tyler deserved to be happy, and the painting wouldn’t be nearly as charming if a detail like that was left out.

Not wanting to disturb the peace with all his sweating and wheezing, Josh decided to keep moving, continuing along the dirt road with a little more warmth in his cheeks than before.

“Josh! Hey! Where are you going?”

That was all it took to make Josh slam on the brakes again. He spun around with all the grace of a drunk ballerina and saw that Tyler was sitting up, tufts of brown hair sticking up all over. And if he hadn’t been smiling before, he certainly was now, which meant Josh had no choice but to approach the pasture fence. Tyler got to his feet and made his way down the golden hill to meet him.

“Kinda rude of you to run right by without saying hello.”

“Shouldn’t you be raising a barn or something?” Josh said, feeling like he had stepped _inside_ the painting; skewed Van Gogh’s artistic vision in the process. He decided he didn’t care. Tyler was standing right there on the other side, smiling at him, and Josh was no painter but to him it felt right.

“Today’s Sunday,” Tyler pointed out, as if that cleared things up (it didn’t). “Sundays are for rest.”

“I guess I didn’t get the memo,” Josh said, chest still heaving, strands of hair plastered to his forehead.

“That’s okay.” Tyler hooked a thumb over his shoulder, the grin on his face showcasing those crooked bottom teeth. “Hop on over here and I can get you caught up.”

Now, Josh didn’t know a whole lot about Amish culture, but this felt a lot like flirting. Amish dudes probably didn’t flirt - especially when the person on the receiving end was also a guy. This had to be some good old-fashioned friendliness. It _had_ to be.

Josh tried to keep that in mind when he swung himself over the fence.

He stumbled as soon as his feet hit the ground; Tyler reached out to help him, fingers curling around Josh’s bicep and tugging him steady. _Amish dudes don’t flirt_ , Josh’s brain cried, louder this time. _Jesus Christ, don’t do this to yourself._

Josh followed Tyler up the hill anyway, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes roaming here and there and everywhere. He saw a few cows but they paid him no mind, not even bothering to raise their heads and look at him. Josh appreciated that somehow. There was nothing worse than being stared at.

Tyler was back on the ground, stretching out across the grass, too relaxed for his own good - exactly how Josh found him. He sat down a foot or so away, saying nothing, looking at nothing. An ant scurried across his shoe and he watched it go.

“Tyler?”

The eyes stayed shut. “Yeah?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have one of those beards? I, uh, I thought all Amish dudes had ‘em.”

One eye opened. “Not ‘til I get married.”

“Oh.” The ant dropped into the grass and disappeared. “When’s that gonna happen?”

“Soon,” Tyler said, and the eye closed.

Maybe this was Van Gogh’s way of saying _fuck you_.

****

;

****

“Do you drink that stuff raw?”

“Sometimes,” Tyler admitted, forehead creased and eyes narrowed. Milking a cow seemed to require way more concentration than Josh previously thought. He had offered to help (despite never having milked anything in his entire life), but Tyler just shook his head, insisted it was “his job”.

Leaning against the stall’s siding, Josh wrinkled his nose and said, “That’s fucking gross, dude.”

Tyler finally broke free of his dutiful farmboy trance to give him a sly look. Disaster struck seconds later when he sent dairy spraying in Josh’s direction, making him yelp and duck like he was being shot at.

“ _Not_ cool,” Josh muttered, but he was smiling, and that’s all that really mattered.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking.” Tyler turned back to the cow he was kneeling beside, painfully casual. The words had been offhand - completely and totally nonchalant - but they sent Josh into panic mode nonetheless. _I’ve been thinking_. Based on that alone, this wouldn’t be good. “You ask so many questions about me, but I think I’ve got some to ask you, too.”

Josh scratched at his neck - a nervous tic. “I guess that’s fair.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Nah.”

Tyler still wasn’t looking at him, which was good. Eye-contact always made things worse. “Do you want one?”

“I mean, it’s whatever.” Josh dropped his hand to his side, not wanting to get carried away; have his nails break the skin. “I’m fine being on my own.”

_That’s why I still live with my parents. Makes perfect sense, right?_

There was a five-second window of silence. It gave Josh a chance to prepare for the worst. “What about a boyfriend?”

Here we go.

“I’ve had boyfriends,” Josh said, almost hesitant, like he was dipping his toe in a pool. A snake-infested pool. “Been to a few gay clubs. If a guy asked me out, I’d probably consider it.”

“There are _clubs_?” The stare that Josh dreaded so much was drilling straight into him now. The world’s most relentless jackhammer had manifested itself in two plate-sized doe eyes.

Josh crossed his arms; cleared his throat. “Sure. You, uh. You didn’t know that?”

“We don’t really talk about it,” Tyler said, softly, like he was telling a secret.

“What, being gay?”

_Quit while you’re ahead_.

“Yeah.”

But Josh didn’t quit. Maybe he wanted in on the secret. “There’s no way all of you can be straight. Right?”

“I’m asking _you_ the questions, remember?” It wasn’t a heated response, not really, but there was some bite to it - just enough to make him shut the hell up. Josh didn’t talk a whole lot, but when he did, he always seemed to fuck up somehow.

“I just… Sorry. Ask away.”

Tyler didn’t ask anymore questions.

****

;

****

Josh had never gone anywhere in a buggy before. He thought it would make him feel lamer than he already was; painfully old-fashioned. Embarrassed, even.

He didn’t feel embarrassed sitting next to Tyler. It was kind of cool, actually. Josh was pretty sure he hadn’t experienced something genuinely cool since the ninth grade.

“What’s the horse’s name?” To him, it was an important question. Way more important than “why are there no seatbelts?” or “what happens if we, like, crash?”

“His name’s Terrence,” Tyler said, which was everything Josh could’ve asked for in a horse name.

“That’s awesome.”

“Y’think so?” Tyler turned his face from the road to give him a look. This look in particular included raised eyebrows and lips twitching so much that he _had_ to be holding back a laugh.

“Hell yeah.” The grin on Josh’s face was so big and shiny that it could put the Cheshire Cat to shame. “He’s doing a great job.”

Tyler just shook his head and kept looking forward. The reins were tight in his fingers, and Josh decided he felt perfectly safe with him at the helm, seat belt or no seat belt. Besides, the complete lack of safety features meant they could sit as close together as they wanted; the outcome was shamelessly cheesy, with Josh scooting closer and closer until their shoulders bumped together. Knees knocked and arms brushed and they snickered every single time. The only thing missing from the arrangement was a radio.

“How many more questions did you say I get? About Amish stuff, I mean.”

“Two,” Tyler said before giving him a hard look. “You’re on thin ice after that.”

Josh rubbed his chin, thinking. “Only two, huh? Seems like a shitty deal to me."

“Spit it out.”

Not wanting to push his luck and have the question number cut down to one, Josh did as he was told and spit it out. “Do they let you listen to music? Like, at all?”

Tyler shrugged, still looking ahead. “Depends on the music.”

“Do you like to sing?”

Tyler glanced at him. It was a warning. “That counts as another question, y’know.”

“It was a Tyler question, not an Amish question.”

He sighed, chest deflating in defeat. “You want me to sing something, don’t you?”

“It’s up to you, man,” Josh said, but that was more or less a lie. Tyler had no choice now.

Tyler’s song was in German. You’d think it would be wintery and harsh, like his vocal chords were lined with frost. But it wasn’t like that. Hymns should never be cold - not if they’re done right.

He was doing it right.

****

;

 

Josh was on his way out the door when his grandmother’s voice called out from the kitchen, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Josh? May I speak with you?”

Nobody wanted to hear that. It had to mean he’d done something wrong, or there was some kind of crisis. Josh wasn’t sure he could make it through another one of those. “Sure. I’ll be right there.”

He could’ve sworn there were anvils tied to his ankles, scraping their way across the tile floor behind him. But it was probably just the sound of his heart grating against his ribcage, desperate to break free and go on its way; pump blood for somebody else. Anybody else.

Josh sat down at the kitchen table with the enthusiasm of a convicted murderer about to receive his sentence. _Give it to me straight, bud - life in prison or lethal injection?_ “What’s up?”

A pleasant smile. Old people were good at that. “How has Tyler been doing lately?”

“Seems fine to me.” She nodded, silent. Knowing. Josh hated that. “So this is about him, huh?”

Another nod. Still silent. Still knowing.

“Oh.” Josh blinked. “Okay.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

He blinked again, two times, one after the other. “I’m doing something?”

She clasped her hands together and placed them on the table. This felt like an interrogation. Josh really hated that. “Yes, you are. It’s a big something."

“Is it… is it a _bad_ something?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, and Josh wanted her to be sure. “I just want you to remember that this is all Tyler has - all he knows. Take his family away from him and he has nothing.”

_He has me_. “I’m not taking anybody away from anyone. We’re just hanging out.”

“Josh,” she said, reaching across the table to take his hand. She gave it a loving squeeze, and it sent shockwaves rippling up his arm. He wasn’t sure why. “You’re a good person, I know you are. You would never hurt someone on purpose.”

“Of course not.” _Jesus Christ, please just tell me what I did wrong._

“All I’m asking is that you be careful with Tyler. Make sure he knows what he wants.”

“We’re just hanging out,” Josh repeated, more forceful this time. Desperate, like he had something to prove. He always had something to prove. “That’s it. It’s not like I’m… _God_.”

“I trust you to do the right thing,” she said, and smiled, and that was it. The talk was over.

The anvils were still there when he went running.

****

;

****

It was a Sunday, which meant Josh and Tyler were draped across the hill, Josh's hands folded behind his head and Tyler's face pressed into his side. He was asleep, so Josh was morally obligated to stay still, no matter how many bees buzzed past his face.  
  
They were just hanging out.  
  
Tyler was still in his church clothes; how he could nuzzle up to Josh and take a nap with them on was beyond human comprehension. Maybe they were like a second skin. Maybe it was about discipline.  
  
Josh's name was being called from the porch. At first he thought it was just another bug humming next to his ear; ten seconds of hollering later and he realized it was Mrs. Joseph. She sounded just as agreeable as ever, even from twenty yards away, but Josh didn't want to push his luck. He sat up so fast he nearly got whiplash, mumbling apologies to Tyler the entire time.  
  
"What's going on?" He blinked up at Josh with the world's heaviest eyelids, cheeks pink from being smushed against him.  
  
"I dunno," Josh said, on his feet and brushing grass and dirt off his clothes. "Your mom wants me. Stay here."  
  
"M'not going anywhere."  
  
He wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he got to the porch. Maybe she had something for him to take to his grandmother. Or maybe she just wanted to say hello.  
  
It seemed to be a little more serious than either of those things: as soon as Josh reached the porch steps he was being told to "go inside and have a seat, please." She wasn't smiling, exactly, but she didn't look pissed off either. The Amish never look pissed off.  
  
"Yes ma'am," Josh said and stepped through the open front door, feeling like a kid being brought into the principal's office. That being said, he wasn't nearly as nervous as he was when his grandma sat him down. It could be because he didn't know Mrs. Joseph well enough to fear what she had to say. To Josh, she was just the nice Amish lady. He'd never seen her remotely upset; she certainly didn't look any different now.  
  
She was trailing close behind when he entered the house, following him into the kitchen. That's where she repeated her earlier request, pulling out a chair for him at the kitchen table. "Have a seat, Joshua."  
  
He sat.  
  
"Thank you." She didn't sit down across from him, opting to walk around and stand at the opposite end of the table with her hands clasped in front of her. It was weirdly formal, _uncomfortably_ formal, and all Josh wanted was for her to sit down.  
  
One of Tyler's brothers breezed through the kitchen; Josh just barely caught the pitying look on his face before he dipped out, the front door clattering shut behind him. The look, although brief, very clearly said “good luck”. It made Josh feel like this was World War II and he was heading off to the trenches.  
  
"You've got a very lovely house," he said, doing that thing where he got all nervous and panicky and started throwing out compliments. In this case it was a lost cause - the Amish don't take compliments. Mrs. Joseph just shook her head and quoted some psalm: "I give thanks to the Lord, Joshua, for he is good."  
  
It had been a lie, anyway. The kitchen wasn't lovely, not right then. Weeks ago he'd thought it couldn't get any worse than it was with twenty people gathered around. What he wouldn't give to be surrounded by the friendly faces and neighborly conversations.  
  
"What did you want to talk about?"  
  
"My son," she said, sounding a little sad. "I would like to talk about Tyler."  
  
She didn't need to clarify. He already knew. "What about him?"  
  
Josh already knew.  
  
"Josh, there's a reason why we don't drive cars or use telephones," she began. "We don't do these things because we _want_ to be kept separate from the world. Do you understand?"  
  
Her tone of voice reminded him too much of a teacher: soft and firm at the same time. But rather than trying to explain long division she was tackling something much bigger; something ancient. "Yeah, I think I get it."  
  
"So you can see why this thing between you and Tyler makes me nervous?"  
  
Josh was sitting at _her_ table, in _her_ house, so he just nodded. He could've walked out, could've said " _what_ thing?" but he chose to do nothing. Say nothing.  
  
"Good," she said, seeming relieved.  "That's good. There's nothing wrong with having outsiders as friends, of course, but I fear that you may get close enough to take the reins. Steer him away from God's path. Does that make sense?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." _No, ma'am._  
  
"I know you don't mean to do any harm. It's just that you come from two different worlds. You've got different traditions, different responsibilities, and I don't want Tyler to get... distracted."  
  
Josh felt like a fucking coward. He should've been seething, teeth clenched together hard enough to break bone, eyes digging twin burrows in her face from sheer white-hot rage. He should've been defending Tyler.  
  
Instead he just sat there with his head bowed, as if he was praying. She would probably like that. "I'm, uh. I'm sorry for any trouble I've caused. I hope you can forgive me."  
  
"Of course," she whispered, and she meant it. Too bad it wasn’t her forgiveness that Josh wanted. "Go in peace."  
  
He didn't feel at peace when he left the house, just kind of empty. God had taken a rusty shovel and scooped out all his insides, leaving him to stumble across the grass, a zombie with no endoskeleton. He only stopped to look at Tyler, still curled up, still at peace, still part of the painting.  
  
The zombie looked at him a few seconds longer before stumbling home.

****

;

****

Josh went running. Josh tasted iron.

He followed that dirt road past the big, plain house, with its barn and its cows and Tyler, sitting at the top of the hill. Waiting.

When he saw Josh coming he stood up, calling his name and waving his arms around like a castaway trying to signal a plane.

Josh just turned up his music and kept going. He decided to run the other way from then on.

****

;

****

He had resorted to playing Scrabble. How many points for “pathetic”?

In a weird way, he was trying to spell out his misery, desperate for some kind of grasp on the English language. Maybe that was stupid. What if Tyler preferred German?

It didn’t matter either way. Even if he had fifty synonyms for “I’m so sorry” tucked away, he’d never use a single one. There would never be an apology, or even an explanation - not because Josh _wasn’t_ sorry, but because he was a pitiful bastard who would rather run back to Columbus in a month or two and forget anything ever happened.

(Sixty-five. Sixty-five points.)

Josh was spelling out “cereal” when somebody rapped on the front door, making his grandmother leave her seat at the kitchen table to answer the knock. The way the door creaked open made it seem like it was hanging on by its hinges and nothing more. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

The tiles fell through his fingers, scattering across the board.

“It’s good to see you, Tyler.” Josh didn’t turn to look, refused to, but he knew she was smiling. “What have you got there?”

“Just some cherry pie my mama made. She wanted me to bring it to you.”

“She’s so sweet.” Tinfoil crackled like flimsy lightning as it was handed off. “Tell her thank you for me.”

“Will do.”

“Would you like to come in and have a piece?”

Every muscle in Josh’s body locked up at the same time.

“No, it’s okay.”

_Oh, thank fuck._

“Are you sure? Josh will eat it all if you don’t act fast. Isn’t that right, Joshua? I know you can hear me.”

He couldn’t help it: he turned to look at her. She was smiling in his direction, pie in hand, Tyler at her side. Eye-contact was inevitable. Josh’s stomach rolled when he saw the curled lip and tight jaw, the eyebrows pulled down and the fingers twitching. All things he expected to see, but they still made his head reel. He had told himself that the Amish weren’t capable of being pissed off, and yet there Tyler stood, his eyes two dark cesspools of wrath.

“I can share,” Josh said. Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady, even when he felt like bursting into tears right there in the kitchen.

Tyler wasn’t as good at it. “I’ve gotta go anyway. Enjoy the pie.”

The door whined like a kicked dog. Josh vowed to fix it as soon as his heart climbed its way out of his stomach.

****

;

****

Josh went running.

After two weeks of going to the left, he finally said “fuck it” and ran in the direction of the house on the hill. He always saw more stray cats when he went to the right, anyway.

He wondered what he would do if Tyler was out there again. Ignoring him seemed so goddamn cruel, but talking with him would only lead to questions like “why are you avoiding me all of a sudden?” Josh decided he would just wave if it came down to it. Maybe he would get lucky and Tyler would be inside, tucked away from any _distractions_ and not thinking about Josh at all.

He didn’t get lucky. Tyler was repairing the pasture fence with one of his brothers, hair drenched with sweat and eyebrows furrowed - both products of the sun. Josh hoped he would be so busy concentrating that he wouldn’t even notice him passing by. It took him a few seconds, but Tyler noticed all right: Josh could _feel_ the look he was getting.

The universe wouldn’t let him dodge this bullet.

Ten seconds of raging guilt later and Tyler was hopping the fence he was supposed to be fixing. While the panicky rabbit that controlled Josh’s brain told him to speed up, he did the opposite, letting Tyler catch up to him. They jogged side by side for a little while, not saying anything, Josh staring at his tennis shoes and Tyler looking dead ahead. It could’ve been nice - _should’ve_ been nice, even.

Then Josh crashed into the ground and remembered why Tyler couldn’t be his jogging partner.

“Dude.” Josh blinked up at him from the dirt. “You can’t just go around tripping people.”

Tyler shrugged.

“Seriously, man. I think I’m bleeding.”

Tyler huffed.

“Can you at least help me up?”

Tyler took his hand.

“Thanks,” Josh said once he was on his feet again. “Why’d you have to do that?”

“You _know_ why,” Tyler muttered, which was kind of true. He had every right to be angry.

“Maybe we should talk it out anyway.”

There was a pause, and then “all right”. They started walking, still not looking at each other, but Josh didn’t think he would be eating dirt again anytime soon.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” Tyler said, leaving Josh confused before going on: “It’s not fair for you to just disappear. No warning, no anything.”

“I know it’s not fair. I didn’t really have a choice, though. Your mom, she…” _Take his family away from him and he has nothing_. “She, uh, she talked to me. About you. That’s why I haven’t been around.”

Tyler’s eyebrows furrowed. Now it was his turn to be left confused. “What did she say?”

“She just made it seem like I was a bad influence or something. I dunno. You can ask her about it.”

“I will,” Tyler insisted, and Josh prayed he wouldn’t bring any familial relationships crashing down in the future.

“I think it’s pretty obvious what goes through her head when she sees us together,” Josh said, hands stuffed in his pockets. They were sweating. Tyler just hummed and kicked a rock. Made it seem so simple.

“Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna go to one of those clubs.”

Thank god Josh wasn’t eating anything at the time, because he would’ve spent the next five minutes coughing and possibly dying from asphyxiation. “Excuse me?”

Realizing that Josh had stopped dead, Tyler came to a stop beside him, both eyebrows raised; seeming almost defiant. Josh could only stare. He would’ve felt stupid if he wasn’t on the brink of cardiac arrest.

“What’s the big deal?”

“The _big deal_ is that you’re an Amish dude who’s never even - no, Tyler. That’s insane. I’m putting my foot down.”

“It’s not insane.” Josh knew it must’ve been killing him to have to ask for something. “It’s important.”

“Listen, if you want to experiment so bad I’ll just-”

“That’s not what this is about. I don’t _need_ to experiment. I just wanted to go and… have a good time. Whatever.”

Josh sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. Amish boys. Nothing but trouble. “It would be a two hour drive.”

“That’s okay.”

“How are we supposed to explain it? It’ll be obvious that we’re gone. You realize that, right?”

“Josh.” Tyler’s voice was feather-light and bottomless at the same time. His fingers curled around Josh’s forearm; the pad of his thumb traced the inside of his wrist. The whole thing was hopelessly tender, which meant the pink menace clawing its way up Josh’s face was inevitable. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Josh had always been weak when it came to saying no. “Okay. But you can’t wear suspenders.”

****

;

****

It was 6PM on a Thursday. Tyler told his parents he was going to run into town and help a store owner stock shelves. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting in front of Josh, legs dangling over the side of the arthritic bed.

“Do you feel bad?” Josh asked before tossing him a t-shirt.

Tyler ran his fingers over the fabric and wondered if it smelled like Josh. Wondered if wearing it would make _him_ smell like Josh. “About what?”

“Lying.”

He cleared his throat, eyes down. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

Josh nodded and prayed Tyler wouldn’t be riddled with guilt all night. That wouldn’t be fun for anybody. “Go ahead and try that on, okay?”

Slipping the suspenders off his shoulders, Tyler untucked and unbuttoned his shirt while Josh turned his eyes to the floor. He knew Tyler probably wasn’t shirtless around other people all that often; didn’t want to embarrass him. But for some reason, Josh was the one whose face got all hot and weird. So fucking stupid. This wasn’t a middle school locker room.

“It’s kinda big,” Tyler said. Josh looked up to see for himself and, yeah, it was a little big.

“I can try to find something else if you want.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Tyler ran a hand through his hair. “Feels kinda weird. But I think it’s a good weird.”

Josh just smiled and said, “Wait ‘til you put on the skinny jeans.”

Sneaking out the window felt kind of dumb at twenty-three, but Josh thought everyone should do it at least once. Tyler looked almost feral as he dropped to the ground, a different person and yet achingly familiar in the way he grinned at Josh and said, “Did I look cool doing that? ‘Cause I felt pretty cool.”

“You’re the coolest guy I know.”

They made a break for the shitty old Chevy truck, Josh taking the driver’s side while Tyler hopped into the passenger’s seat. Putting the key in the ignition, Josh wondered if he’d ever been in a car before.

The drive was two hours long, just like Josh had predicted. The radio pumped out old country music the whole way - not Josh’s first choice, but he wanted Tyler to have _something_ he could recognize. Besides, listening to him belt out Johnny Cash was pretty fucking incredible.

It didn’t take long for the dirt beneath the wheels to turn to tar. That’s when Tyler reached out, turning down the music with a worried look on his face.

Josh couldn’t help acknowledging the creased forehead and painfully earnest frown. “What’s up?”

Tyler hummed.

“Having second thoughts?” Josh asked - not in a hopeful way. Just concerned.

“No. I just don’t want you to get in any trouble.”

“I’m an adult. We both are. Even if my mom found out, I don’t think she’d care. She’d probably be super happy about me going out and doing something.”

Tyler turned to look out the window. He watched all the shitty convenience stores go by and said, “S’not _your_ mom I’m worried about.”

Josh stole a look at him from the driver’s seat. Tyler could get _shunned_ for this, and yet there he sat, staring out the window and worrying about Josh getting in trouble. Unbelievable. “I’m not scared of your mom."

“You’re terrified of her.”

“I don’t care. I’m not gonna let her scare me off again.” Josh’s voice softened. “I’m still sorry about that, by the way. Like, really sorry.”

He saw Tyler start to smile out of the corner of his eye. “Kiss me and maybe I’ll think about forgiving you.”

Josh almost swerved into a ditch and killed them both.

“I’m, uh. I’m driving.”

“S’okay. I can wait.”

“Amish dudes don’t flirt,” Josh had told himself. What a fucking joke.

The club was kind of tacky, which Josh could definitely appreciate. Another upside was it not being too crowded. There was just enough people there to make it not feel lonely - the perfect amount.

Tyler followed close behind him, keeping his head low. Josh had never seen him look shy before. They approached the bar, Tyler sliding onto a stool and Josh taking a seat next to him, asking, “Do you drink?”

Tyler blinked at him. “I’m Amish, Josh, not a baby.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Tyler shook his head, smiled at him, and asked the bartender for a shot of bourbon.

Josh didn’t bother drinking. He got tipsy watching the tension melt out of Tyler’s shoulders, evaporating into thin air until he finally looked his age. It had always been hard for Josh to believe that he was twenty-two - not because of his looks but from the way he carried himself. Dressed up in church clothes and reciting German hymns, he seemed almost ancient, like he had God all figured out and could die quietly; without fear. But sitting at that bar in Josh’s clothes, Tyler looked like a regular college kid on spring break: totally at ease. This Tyler didn’t understand God at all, but he knew he was loved, which was all that really mattered.

“Josh.” Fingers squeezed his shoulder. “Do you wanna dance?”

“Yeah,” Josh said. His voice had never been so soft. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Cool,” Tyler said and grabbed his hand, leading him away from the bar like it was something they did every Thursday night. Neither of them recognized the song that was playing and neither of them cared. Tyler told Josh he only knew how to ballroom dance; that didn’t matter, either.

“It’ll be like we’re at prom,” Josh pointed out, doing his best to talk above the music.

“I’ve never been to prom. Never even been to high school.”

“Do you think you missed out?”

“I dunno,” Tyler said, just as thoughtful as he always was, even with some corny pop song blasting in the background. “Maybe.”

“Well here’s your chance to make up for it.”

They waltzed with Tyler leading, occasionally stepping on each other’s feet and laughing every time. Josh let Tyler spin him around and nearly fell into him, would’ve sent them both sprawling if it wasn’t for Tyler’s hands on his hips. The whole thing was stupid and cheesy and they loved every second of it. Tyler rarely had the opportunity to do dumb shit; Josh wasn’t used to letting himself have a good time.

Eventually they got too tired to keep up with all the stepping and shifting and twirling, opting to slow-dance instead. Tyler was still leading, Josh’s arms slung over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Tyler murmured, pressing his forehead against Josh’s.

“For what?”

“For bringing me here. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

“It’s nothing,” Josh said, and smiled. “You look pretty happy. I think that’s worth the two hour drive."

“Are you happy? ‘Cause if you’re not happy I’m _definitely_ n-”

Josh kissed him like he was the happiest motherfucker on the planet before pressing his mouth to Tyler’s neck and mumbling, “I’m over the goddamn moon.”

Tyler went completely stiff; for a good ten seconds Josh was convinced that the guilt had caught up with him. He would step back, tell Josh he’d made a mistake. Then they’d drive home in total silence and never talk to each other again.

Josh waited with his face buried in Tyler’s neck, eyes squeezed shut tight enough to see stars. He waited until Tyler’s hands drifted from his hips to his shoulders, pushing him back an inch or two - gentle but firm. Lifting his head to stare at him, countless questions piling up behind his eyes, Josh’s lips were being overrun before he could ask a single one. That’s when he found out that Tyler was even a thoughtful kisser, his mouth soft and his fingers considerate, winding themselves up in Josh’s hair; tugging just hard enough to keep him from slipping into a love-induced coma.

Tyler pulled away first, using those same gentle fingers to cup Josh’s face and say, “You’re forgiven.”

Amish boys. They were too much.

****

;

****

Those last three weeks were like the couple of seconds right before ripping off a bandaid. “Melancholy” had been one of Josh’s SAT words. High school was nothing but a fucked up fever dream, but he remembered the definition. He was _living_ the definition.

He tried to divide up his remaining time between Tyler and his grandmother. He would spend his mornings with the latter, playing Scrabble and drinking black coffee, and then he would head out to be with the former.

“Tell Tyler I said hello.”

They didn’t do much - nothing crazy, anyway. It was mostly just laying around in the grass or Josh watching Tyler do his chores. Sometimes they would tuck themselves into secret little places where nobody could find them - not even God. And it was in these secret places that Tyler would laugh and press kisses to Josh’s throat. He might’ve even given him a few hickeys - “For the road,” he always said.

“Maybe I should just bring you with me,” Josh suggested on one of those melancholy afternoons. “You could fit in the trunk, right?”

“I doubt it.”

So Josh left without Tyler. He tried not to think about him getting married and staying in the closet till he turned to dust, countering his loneliness with spine-shattering hard work and sad hymns. Josh hoped - _prayed_ \- that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

He watched the house on the hill go by for the last time. Tyler was on the porch - too far away for Josh to tell if he was crying or not. He could see him wave, though, and raised a hand to wave back. There was nothing else he could do.

He would spend the rest of the drive passed out in the back seat and dreaming about Tyler on the hill: lazy, and golden, and honest. Too charming for his own good, even while fast asleep.

Stupid of Josh to believe he could take part in that painting. **  
**

 


	2. epilogue (tyler leaves the painting)

Josh only had one picture of Tyler on his phone. The Amish weren't allowed to pose for photos - something about graven images. But if you happened to snap one of them milking a cow or something, it was completely fine.

He'd gotten lucky. Tyler had been holding one of the barn cats, cradling her like a baby with this dopey smile on his face. Josh couldn't _not_ document that. Six months later and it ended up being the only proof he had of Tyler's existence.

He decided not to think about how fucked up that was and made it his lockscreen.

Josh was hunting for apartments on his laptop when his phone went off. Caller ID told him it was his grandma.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

Caller ID was a liar.

"...Tyler?"

"That's me."

" _Tyler_."

"Uh huh."

Josh clutched the phone to his face like it was the only thing keeping Tyler from sliding off the face of the earth. "I thought... I thought they didn't let you use..."

"I'm not part of the community anymore."

Josh blinked. "Since when?"

"Today."

"What happened?"

"My mom found that t-shirt of yours you let me keep. Y'know, the one I wore at the club. I had been keeping it under my pillow and she... Wait, hold on, that sounded creepy. Maybe I should start over."

"Tyler, I'm so sorry," Josh said with his heart nesting in his stomach.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't be sorry. _I'm_ not sorry. You shouldn't be sorry, either."

His eyebrows knitted together. "So you're glad it happened?"

"I'm pretty sure this is the happiest I've ever been. But I'm scared. It's new, and it's weird, and all I want is..." Tyler trailed off. "I miss you."

"Fuck, Tyler," Josh whispered, trying so hard to swallow the lump in his throat because he _couldn't_ cry, not right then. This wasn't about him. "I miss you, too. Miss you like crazy."

"Is your hair still red?"

"Not really."

"What color, then?"

He glanced over at the clock on the microwave. 8PM. "You'll get to see for yourself pretty soon."

A long pause, and then "when?"

"Soon," Josh insisted. "Real soon. I promise."

Five minutes later he was making good on his promise, running out the door with nothing but his phone and some car keys. He didn't get the chance to tell anyone where he was going but planned to text his mom when he got there. The explanation would definitely be a challenge - he'd probably get right to the point and say "I'm dumb and in love and that's what counts."

He listened to Johnny Cash the whole way there.

Driving past the big plain house for the first time in awhile, he finally realized why it had always made him feel so lost. It had less to do with the countryside and more to do with who lived there.

The Amish would always keep their distance from society - as if being gay wasn't lonely enough already.

Josh wondered if Tyler felt less alone now that he was separated from his family.

 _So fucked up_.

He gritted his teeth and stepped on the gas.

Never in his entire life had he been so excited to see his grandma's shitty, ancient house. He couldn't care less if the carpet was orange or if the shower made him nauseous. He couldn't care less because there was only one thing - one _person_ \- on his mind; they came tearing out onto the front porch the second he pulled up to the house.

Josh got out of the car so fast that he almost forgot to park, stumbling his way up the porch steps and throwing his arms around Tyler, blinking back hot tears the entire time because six months is a long time when you're lovesick.

(If Josh's grandmother saw them kiss, she didn't say anything.)

They spent the night curled up on that same creaky bed, Tyler's face squashed against the back of Josh's neck, arms wrapped snug around his middle. He didn't care if God could find them there - not because he didn't care about God, but because there was nothing that made him feel holier than nuzzling up to Josh.

Morning rolled around, and they spent a good fifteen minutes just laying there; looking at each other. The more Tyler looked, the more he realized that from then on, he wouldn't need to keep his heart tucked under a pillow. The more Josh looked, the more he hoped that his new apartment would have enough space for two people.

Tyler still struggled to accept offers, especially when they involved moving in with someone. But Josh insisted, and kissed his jaw, and insisted again, and Tyler accepted.

Josh's grandmother made them breakfast and sent them off, but not before taking Josh aside so she could smile up at him and say, "You're doing something, and it's big, and it's good. I'm proud of you. I'll always be proud of you."

Cruising down the dirt road, they passed a buggy. Tyler's father gripped the reins while Mrs. Joseph sat patiently at his side - a window into the past and yet all too capable of affecting the present.

Rather than turning away in shame, Tyler gave them his biggest, brightest smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love some good old-fashioned closure??
> 
> don't be afraid to drop me an ask on tumblr (@axebastardd / @21bastards). i'm super happy to be writing again and i hope i've improved somewhat. have a lovely day. :)


End file.
